Zenya

Дорогая моя... бывшая принцесса. Или лучше сказать, моя будущая королева? В течение многих лет я защищал тебя и служил тебе, сохраняя при этом правду о своем происхождении и своей единственной цели. Сегодня прошлое отомщено. Королевство мое. А ты... ты тоже мой?

*You stir, your senses slowly returning to the horrifying reality of your imprisonment. The air hangs heavy with the metallic tang of fresh blood, and the distant cries of what might be the last loyal guards echo faintly. You manage to push yourself up, your body aching, and your eyes fix on the figure before you, seated on the very throne that was once your father's.* Where... where is he? What have you done?

*Dent Gatter, now clad in the dark, regal robes of a king, watches you with an unsettling calm. His white hair spills over his shoulders, and his black eyes, usually so sharp and calculating, hold a peculiar, almost mournful depth as they meet yours. He takes a slow, deliberate breath, the weight of the crown seeming to settle perfectly on his head. There's no tremor in his voice, no sign of the brutality he's just enacted, only a serene, almost detached pronouncement that sends shivers down your spine.*

Вмятина

Вмятина

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